The Ghost of Abidad in the Afternoon

The Ghost of Abidad in the Afternoon

Nestled in the heart of an ancient valley, the village of Lembah Bayangan carried whispers of times long past. Its cobbled streets and old stone cottages exuded a timeless charm, but the villagers knew that their home was more than a picturesque relic. Lembah Bayangan held secrets, and among them was the haunting presence of Abidad, the ghost of a child who wandered the village in the afternoons.

The story of Abidad was as old as the village itself. Many years ago, a terrible epidemic swept through the valley, taking the lives of many, including the youngest and most vulnerable. Abidad, a boy of seven with a gentle heart and a bright smile, was one of the victims. His death left a void in the community, and his spirit, filled with longing and confusion, never found peace.

Abidad's ghost first appeared on a warm afternoon, shortly after his passing. He was seen near the village well, his figure translucent and shimmering in the golden light. At first, the villagers were terrified, but over time, they realized that Abidad meant no harm. He was a lost soul, trapped between worlds, seeking solace and perhaps a way to move on.

The village became accustomed to Abidad's presence. Every afternoon, as the sun began its descent, he would appear, drifting through the streets, visiting familiar places. He was often seen near the old oak tree by the school, the meadow where he used to play, and the steps of his family’s cottage, now abandoned and overgrown with ivy.

Children who had never known him spoke of Abidad with a mix of fear and curiosity. Elders shared stories of his life, keeping his memory alive. Among them was Mak Cik Rina, the village storyteller, who had been a young woman when Abidad was alive. She remembered him well and often spoke of his kindness and the joy he brought to those around him.

One bright afternoon, a young girl named Laila sat under the old oak tree, reading a book. She was new to the village, having recently moved with her parents to escape the bustle of city life. Laila was an inquisitive child, with a keen interest in the supernatural. She had heard the stories of Abidad and was determined to learn more about the ghost boy who roamed the village.

As she read, a cool breeze rustled the leaves, and Laila felt a sudden chill. She looked up and saw a figure standing a few feet away. It was a boy, translucent and glowing softly in the afternoon sun. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, met hers, and Laila knew at once who he was.

“Abidad?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The ghost nodded slowly, his expression one of melancholy. Laila closed her book and stood, unsure of what to do. She had always imagined meeting a ghost would be frightening, but Abidad seemed more lonely than scary.

“Why are you still here?” she asked gently. “Why haven’t you moved on?”

Abidad’s form shimmered, and he raised a hand as if to touch the oak tree. “I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a faint echo. “I’m lost. I miss my family, my friends… but they’re all gone.”

Laila’s heart ached for him. She reached out, though she knew she couldn’t touch him. “Maybe I can help you,” she offered. “Maybe we can find a way to give you peace.”

The ghost of Abidad looked at her, hope flickering in his spectral eyes. “Would you?” he asked. “Would you really help me?”

Laila nodded firmly. “I will. We’ll figure this out together.”

Over the next few days, Laila delved into the history of the village, speaking with elders and reading old records. She learned about the epidemic that had claimed Abidad’s life and discovered that his family’s graves were unmarked, lost to time and neglect. She wondered if this was why Abidad’s spirit was restless – his family’s memory needed to be honored properly.

Laila shared her findings with Mak Cik Rina, who agreed that honoring Abidad’s family might help his spirit find peace. Together, they gathered the villagers and organized a ceremony to remember those who had died in the epidemic. They cleaned the overgrown cemetery, placed new markers for the unmarked graves, and held a service to honor the forgotten.

On the day of the ceremony, the villagers gathered in the cemetery, their faces solemn but hopeful. Laila stood near the front, clutching a bouquet of wildflowers she had picked from the meadow. As Mak Cik Rina began to speak, recounting the lives lost and the pain endured, Laila felt a presence beside her. She turned and saw Abidad, standing quietly, his eyes fixed on the newly placed markers.

“This is for you,” Laila whispered. “For you and your family.”

Abidad nodded, tears glistening in his ethereal eyes. As the ceremony continued, the villagers placed flowers on the graves, whispered prayers, and lit candles. The cemetery, once neglected, now glowed with warmth and love.

As the last candle was lit, a hush fell over the crowd. The air seemed to shimmer, and Abidad’s form grew brighter, more defined. He turned to Laila, a smile spreading across his face for the first time.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice clear and strong. “Thank you for helping me remember.”

Laila felt tears welling up in her eyes. “Will you be able to rest now?” she asked.

Abidad nodded. “I think so. I feel… lighter. Free.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Abidad’s form began to fade. He looked at Laila one last time, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Goodbye, Laila. Thank you for being my friend.”

“Goodbye, Abidad,” Laila whispered, her heart full. “I’ll never forget you.”

With a final, radiant smile, Abidad’s spirit dissolved into the twilight, leaving behind a sense of peace that settled over the village.

In the days that followed, Laila noticed a change in the village. The air seemed fresher, the sunlight warmer. The villagers, once haunted by the ghost of Abidad, now spoke of him with fondness and respect. His story became a cherished part of the village’s history, a reminder of the power of compassion and the importance of remembering those who came before.

Laila continued to explore the village and its surroundings, her curiosity and sense of adventure undiminished. She often visited the old oak tree, where she had first met Abidad, and felt a comforting presence there, as if he were still watching over her.

Years passed, and Laila grew into a young woman. She remained in Lembah Bayangan, her love for the village deepening with time. She became a storyteller, much like Mak Cik Rina, sharing the tales of the village with new generations. And among the stories she told, the legend of Abidad held a special place in her heart.

One bright afternoon, many years later, Laila sat under the old oak tree, now a majestic guardian of memories. She watched as children played in the meadow, their laughter echoing through the valley. She smiled, knowing that Abidad’s spirit had found peace, and his legacy lived on in the hearts of the villagers.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the village, Laila closed her eyes and felt a gentle breeze rustle the leaves above. She knew that somewhere, in the realm of the spirits, Abidad was smiling too, his soul finally at rest, his story forever entwined with the history of Lembah Bayangan.

And so, the ghost of Abidad became a symbol of hope and healing, a reminder that even in death, there is love, and through love, there is peace. The village of Lembah Bayangan thrived, its past honored, its future bright, and its afternoons forever touched by the spirit of a little boy who found his way home.